I couldn't let this happen.

I felt as if my chest was being crushed by a boulder as I looked upon the castle's cold floor. What was left of Ylisse's army was strewn about upon chipped marble, their bodies awkwardly twisted and motionless. The once great pillars were now crumpled to the ground, worn from years of assaults. The horrible sounds of war resonated through the castle as I struggled to breathe. How could this all happen? Things should have never become this bad. How could we still be losing after all of our efforts? My eyes glanced up to see our banners tattered and burning, the cackling mocking our very lives. I struggled to pull myself together as I gripped the hilt at my waist.

"Lucina..." I snapped my attention over my shoulder to find a boy just a few years younger than me standing with a worn expression, his blue hair twisted on his head from nights without sleep. Pale cheeks were scarred and covered in years worth of dirt and dust, marking him in a way that made him look so much older than he truly was. My heart sank momentarily as my vision stopped upon his robe—our mother's old robe. I tore my eyes away before lifting my chin with a broken determination.

"Morgan," The boy nodded before grasping something closer to his chest. I quickly found this to be a cracked tome, Thunder magic to be perfectly exact. "What's going on? I-I thought that—"

"They're gone." His blue eyes lifted to my own as he swallowed hard. "The Risen are too powerful, Luci. There's just no possible way to beat them." I felt a flame ignite in my chest at his words, forcing me to spin around and clenched my teeth.

"There has to be a way!" Morgan simply looked away, avoiding my eyes. I felt my breathing become hot and ragged as I took another step towards him. "We cannot just give up, not after everything we've lost!" I felt my eyes sting with tears as he simply dipped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. Images flashed through my mind, of faces of brave people lost along the way. "What about Aunt Lissa?! She gave up everything for us!"

"Lucina—"

I just cut him off, a bitter feeling rising in my chest. "What about Uncle Frederick?! What about all of the Shepherds who gave their lives to protect us?!" I felt like I was suffocating as Morgan ignored me. I struggled to swallow as this feeling seemed to consume me. I felt a shudder go down my spine as I narrowed my eyes with anger. "What about our parents?!" At this, Morgan's head lifted with wide eyes. "Did they die just to let us give up?!"

"Of course they didn't!" His eyes, coated with tears, let a small fire ignite. "But what are we going to do, Lucina?!" He shot his left hand out, gesturing to the crumbling walls around us. "We're losing! The castle is falling in around us! We're so low on soldiers, food, weapons and morale!" He took a shaking, sharp breath as I stood there with my eyes narrowed. "On all fronts, we are defeated. Where it stands, Grima has already won."

I choked on my breath as I struggled to keep whatever this rising bitterness was down. "We have to do something! There has to be a way to win this war!" Morgan simply shook his head and let out a heavy, shivering breath. His shoulders fell as he lifted his head with a strange sense of stubbornness.

"We would need the aid of Naga herself to defeat this living nightmare, Lucina." He rubbed his fingertips against the worn leather of his tome before continuing, "The others and I have readied an escape plan." I felt a sharp bolt of horror at his words, but the Tactician continued on, "We will head to a remote village on the Feroxi border and treat our wounds there."

"But what will become of Ylisstol?!" More pictures raced through my mind, of happier times when we would climb in the orchards, or when we would try to lift a sword and take aim at one of the many practice targets outside the barracks. This place was our home, our only connection to what once was. The Ylisse House had started to crumble long ago, and by now, it was nearly dead. What would become of us?

Morgan slowly reached out to me, placing his left hand upon my shoulder. "Ylisstol is long gone, Luci." His blue orbs narrowed as he swallowed and tried to continue, his voice cracking with emotion. "Sister, the only thing left of House Ylisse is us." I shook my head stubbornly before looking away from his gaze. "Owain, Yarne, Nah and the others are already waiting outside." He paused, drawing a breath to replenish his lungs. "If we're going to live to see another sunrise, we have to leave now."

"B-But Morgan," My legs suddenly felt like they were going to give out below me, forcing me to lock my knees and grab my little brother's shoulders. "We-We've worked so hard to save the capital. Th-This is our home! We've always lived here! How can we just leave it behind like this?!"

I slowly looked to his face to find his eyes narrowed into slits. Inside of his blue eyes, I could see a trace of our mother, her inner flame carried on inside of us. That strength...oh, how I longed for her strength at times like these. "Lucina, a crumbling castle does not make a home." A bit of a crooked, broken smile slipped on his face as he gently lifted my hands from his shoulders. "What makes a home is us, together. We are family, Lucina, and family is far more important than a pile of rubble."

I slowly took a shivering step backwards, pulling away from his hold. My right hand slowly slipped to the hilt of the Falchion, my fingers tightening over the metal grip. Morgan simply waited in silence, his eyes burning with something so foreign to me. My ears began to ring with the sound of Risen, their harsh, guttural screeches filling the air.

He was right. At this point, Ylisstol was reduced to nothing but ruins. This place may have been once my—our—home, but it had been hollowed long before now. That warmth that had once radiated out of every nook and cranny, had long ceased to exist. That warmth was something that could not be replaced, something that had been lost along the way. I knew deep down that the only reason I desperately clung to Ylisstol is not that I grew up here, but that this was one thing I could still connect to my parents. Our family...we were all that was left of it at this at this point.

I felt my heart twist in my chest as I slowly nodded. "Y-You're right, Morgan." My eyes were locked on to the twisted red below me, the stains of so many battles. "Ylisstol is gone now. W-We have to stay alive above holding on to something dead." I looked up to find my brother nodding his head with wet eyes, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

"Come on," He backed up a bit to wave me on with his left hand, his right holding his tome tightly in his grasp. "We have to leave before the Risen find out."

It was then that a deafening crash rang through the room.

Our eyes snapped to our left to find to our horror that one of the few untouched windows had now shattered on the floor, giving entrance to a howling Risen Barbarian. I stole a quick breath before grabbing our father's Falchion and yanking it out of its sheath, holding the blade at the ready. My face was reflected back to me in the gleaming surface, worn and dirt-caked. Black circles under my eyes only proved to accent just how long I had remained here, trying to hold on to the castle. I looked back to find Morgan readying his tome, a sharp crackle taking over the air. Yellow electricity surged up his arm as we stood there, waiting to attack.

"Now!" Suddenly, Morgan charged forward, hurling his magic straight at the rotten face of the beast. I lost my breath for a split second as the Thunder exploded and charged through the monster's veins, creating spasms that left it defenseless. My brother turned around with a breathless look, his eyes bright with some sort of spark. I then launched myself forward, my father's...no, my blade slicing through the pale flesh with ease. The monster let out a broken gasp before disappearing in a burst of purple smoke, leaving us alone and panting for air.

My little brother was the first to rise to his feet, his tome still releasing some excess energy in miniature bolts of Thunder. I soon rose as well, a half-smile on my face as the adrenaline created a lift in my chest. "Come on," He grabbed my hand with a bit of a gasp, his lungs certainly as empty—if not more so—than mine. "We have to get out of here before more show up!"

I lifted my chin just a bit higher before giving him a nod of confirmation. "Right, there must be more out there." I tightened my grip on my sword before we both raced off, leaving the ruins of the throne room behind us. As we raced out to the only remaining courtyard—seeing as the others had long since been burned to the ground—I selfishly stole a glance back at the remains of Ylisstol. The once regal form of stone had now deteriorated to a miserable state, with broken walls, shattered stained glass and crumbling turrets all around us. The blackened silhouette of the main chambers leaned against the last solid wall, looking for some sort of support against the near constant onslaught of attacks. The earlier bitter feeling rose once again in my throat, forcing me to turn away and focus on the twisted path of gravel below our boots.

"...Goodbye, Ylisstol."

By the time we had both reached the far outskirts of the castle walls, we were both fighting for breath with our hands on our knees.

The sounds of fire and screams resonated through the late evening, furthering the dark and depressing mood. Shortly after we stopped, the sound of footsteps rang out. I snapped my head up only to find a familiar face glancing down on us, dulled brown eyes seemingly looking straight through us. I let out a bit of a relieved sigh as I lifted myself to my full height, my little brother abruptly standing tall beside me. His nose twitched with unease as I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he just shook his brown fur with an anxious growl.

"L-Lucina! Morgan!" The Taguel shifted on his feet as we slowly found a steady rhythm of breathing. "What took you two so long?! W-We were starting to think that you had gone extinct in there or something!" Suddenly, a second face emerged in the darkness, a torch held high over her orange hair. The sound of metal quickly made a name race to my mind, easing any sort of worry in my mind. It was obvious by her suit of armor who she was.

"Yarne," Kjelle, the last knight of the Ylisse House, shot the Taguel a glare with her black orbs. "You always worry about going extinct." She narrowed her eyes before turning to Morgan and I. "However, we were starting to get worried about you two." She motioned behind her with the torch before flashing a broken grin. "The wagon's ready to leave, you slow-foots! We were this close to leaving your royal rears behind!" At this, Yarne jumped in air before taking a few steps back.

"We would never leave you two behind!" He then took a sharp breath and looked over his shoulder, just as Kjelle had done. "B-But, the wagon is ready to leave."

I slowly turned to Morgan to find the flame dancing in those deep blue pools of his, the same eyes our father once held. "...Wagon?" He slowly turned towards me with a weak smile, his right knuckles turning white from gripping his book so tight.

"What? Did you really think that I was going to make us walk all the way to the Feroxi border?" He let out that strange chuckle of his, broken and unconvincing. "We're lucky enough to have one contact to our names, so why not call upon it?" The darkness was suddenly lit up by two torches, illuminating a farmer's cart with canvas nailed over it, guarding the contents from sight. Holding the torches were two more faces we knew, a young brunette boy and a much shorter girl with an orange shade of crimson hair.

"Well," My eyes strained against the darkness as an older figure emerged from the night, struggling along with a limp. The orange glow from the torches slowly revealed a man with dark curls covered by a beaten yellow pot, wearing a very old set of farm clothes. My mind raced for a name as the man stopped in front of us with pained eyes, just as anyone else would when they looked upon my brother and I. "I sure am glad to know that ya' two got out of there alright."

Morgan tapped my shoulder, drawing my attention away from the man's...er, wild accent. "Lucina, meet Donnel, our last contact." My eyes widened as I suddenly found memories rushing to my mind, of tales of valor and heroics led by our parents. The man before me suddenly turned ten or more years younger, becoming a young boy with a spear and a desire to protect his village. Not just any boy, though. A Shepherd.

"B-But I thought they were dead!" I found the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them, the man before us simple looking down with glassy eyes of pain, just as any villager had. "The Shepherds! Th-They all died in that attack! How in the name of Naga—"

"Lucina," I lifted my eyes as I found my eyes stinging with tears once again. His scarred face struggled to find any color in this strange lighting, and the words to say. "Your folks..." He motioned toward the covered wagon before continuing on, "All of your folks, they wanted someone to be able to protect ya'." He dipped his head for a moment with a sharp exhale. "Th-They made me run from the fight, so's that ya'll would have a guard'an of sorts. Or, at the very least, som'one to bail y'all out."

"So you ran." The bitterness in my voice was apparently just as shocking to him as it was to me, for his eyes snapped up from his chest almost immediately.

"Never!" He shook his head before lifting his head. "I would've gladly stood by you two's pa' 'till my last breath! Your pa' just didn't want any of that! He sent me off to make sure all of ya' young'uns made it." A single tear slipped down his cheek as his eyes softened. "He wanted to protect all of ya'."

Before I could say a single word, Morgan stepped forward with a tight frown. He quickly turned to face me with that strange determination once again. "Lucina, we have to move." He motioned towards the cart with his sleeve, the sound rippling above the licking flames. "This darkness won't last long, and we must leave before things make a turn for the worst." I looked back up towards the man with broken eyes, giving him a glare to rival any look from Kjelle. Reluctantly, I nodded to my brother.

"You're right." His eyes lit up for a fraction of a second in this light, making a slight smirk appear on my face. A hand suddenly dropped on to my back, and I snapped my attention to my right. I found Donnel looking down on us with wet eyes, nudging us forward with a sharp breath. "C'mon now." Kjelle and Yarne slowly walked ahead, torch flames swaying with every step. "We've gotta get a move on if we're gettin' out of here 'fore dawn."

I just walked on with heavy steps, my brother right beside me with determined eyes.

"Hey," I looked up as we neared the wooden means of escape to find our cousin standing there with yet another broken smile, trying to hold on to some last spark of his. "We've got this under control!" His free hand to lifted to his dirt-covered chest before continuing on, "As a great hero, you can be certain that we're getting out of here without a single hassle!" His arrogance somehow reminded me of someone so important to me, someone long gone. I turned away before stopping right at the edge of the cart, refusing to enter. One by one, the torches were extinguished as the flame-bearers entered the canvas hideaway, leaving only a single light to dully reveal our escape.

I looked up to find Morgan already inside of the cart, his head bowed to avoid scrapping it across the canvas cover. "Hey," His voice leaked out as I stood there, rigid and unmoving. "Could you create a small flame for us, Laurent? It is a bit darker in here..." Seconds later, a small orange flame lit up the space, allowing Owian to abandon his torch and head inside of our escape transport. This is it. I took a deep breath before slowly grabbing on to the floor of the cart and pulling myself inside. There's no turning back now.

The sight inside nearly made my heart stop beating.

Before me, eleven pale and tired faces were gleaming with sweat, tears and crimson. Their eyes were broken, downcast and coated with tears, while their clothes were dirty, ragged and covered with all sorts of mementos from the Risen. Weapons hung loose in their sheaths for some, others held on to their sword or axe as if they were in the center of a battlefield. Not a single one would look me in the eye, or even so much as spare me a glance. It was right there, inside of that wagon, that I realized just what we were. We were not heroes. We were tired, broken, scarred and bruised children, standing against our enemies with shaking legs and labored breathing.

We were orphans.

I nearly jumped when a hand dropped on to my shoulder. I whipped my head just in time to see my little brother offering me a small pouch of water and a weak smile. "You should really drink something, Luci." His voice was low, almost like a whisper. "I cannot even remember the last time I saw you eat or drink." At his words, my throat seemed to dry up. He's right... I narrowed my eyes at the thought of all of the times I had skipped a meal, a drink, or a rest just to slay even more Risen. I haven't had nearly enough these past few months. I glanced over to the other side of the cart and found to my surprise that the others were passing around a similar skin of water, each one gulping down as much water as their mouths could possibly hold. Although, I have a feeling that I'm not the only one here who's skipped a meal to try to save their skin.

"Thank you, Morgan." I slowly took the precious pouch from him and lifted it to my lips, wondering in the back of my mind just how much there was left to even drink. I soon got my answer when the last droplet of liquid slipped down my throat after only two gulps. I let out a small sound of shock before looking to my right. Luckily for my selfish slip, there wasn't a soul left on this side of the cart. I turned back to my brother to find him chuckling at me.

"Not to worry, there's more water at the head of the cart." He gently took the skin away before leaning his head back against the canvas. "Now, just relax for now. Hopefully, we can all get at least some rest tonight, seeing as everyone has been skipping their sleeping shift to attack more Risen." He frowned for a moment at this before continuing on in a whisper so low, only I could hear it. "You know, our father used to take naps." I narrowed my eyes and frowned as a flash of the past blinded me, shoving the image of our father slipping away to his chambers in my mind. "I am certain that he would have endorsed us to do the same, had he been able to."

My eyes stung as I turned away and pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to conserve space for the others. "Father isn't here, Morgan. Taking a nap will not allow us to defeat our enemies, only staying awake and swinging a blade will."

My little brother opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the cart suddenly jerked into motion. The precious cargo inside stumbled with groans and squeaks of shock, unnerved by the sudden shift of the floorboards. We angrily looked around before slowly calming down, the sound of wooden wheels smashing against the gravel below taking over. Eventually, a few of us returned to their previous positions, many of us curling up on the wagon and trying in vain to get some rest. I simply sat there, staring out the back of the cart. Slowly, the great black of the castle shrank behind us. I watched for a little while before turning away and looking to Morgan. Surprisingly, he was fast asleep, his mouth open slightly as he let out shivering snores. I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I watched him for a little while.

"Goodnight, Morgan." My voice was nearly silent as the orange glow from Laurent's magic faded away. "May Naga grant you a peaceful night's sleep." I leaned my head against the cloth cover and watched as the others slowly drifted off, their weapons in their hands and their feet twitching in their sleep as if they were trying to run. May you all have a restful slumber... I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, my chest now tight with some sort of discomfort. I will keep watch, just in case.

And with that small thought, I watched on as the rumbling cart slowly crept away from Ylisstol, leaving the capital to fall to the ground and be claimed by the Risen.

Author's Note: Hey guys! Silent Nightinggale here with the first post to this account! You may recognize my writing style, my characterizations or something else about my writing. Well, that is due to the fact that this is actually a side-account I created just for fun. I'll be posting here for a while instead of my main account.

So, moving on to this piece...I have decided to write a first-person account for Lucina, seeing as her story is a very interesting one. I mean, there is just so much potential there! Things may be slightly different, as I am currently writing this from Chapter...er...after the first arc and just destroyed Valm's fleet chapter. Ahaha...therefore, things may be changed along the way. However, ever since I met Lucina in-game, I've been wanting to write her story. So, here it is!

A thing you should know is that this takes the Arrogant!Brunette!Robin as the Avatar. Also, the ships will be based off of my copy of the game. Therefore, you'll see some (if I'm not mistaken) different pairings for the parents this time around. However, Chrom and Robin are still the leading ship of the fleet, so not to worry on that front. The others will be revealed as time goes on, or perhaps in a future Author's Note. Either way, things are hinted at here, but will not be revealed until later.

So, we start the story before she heads to the past. It seems the castle is in worse shape than we though, eh? After over a decade of fighting, it would only make sense that things would deteriorate. During a war, you cannot actually stop to fix the interior or exterior, you know. You have to have priorities, like keeping yourself alive. However, it certainly can wear you down as a person, that much is certain. Surprisingly, Donnel is still alive! (Might be due to the fact that he almost never appears in battle in my game...) Luckily for the Broken Dozen, he's here to sneak them out of Ylisstol and take them to Regina Ferox! However, a canvas-covered wagon/cart isn't the smoothest of transportation, or even the most comfortable either... Well, better something than nothing!

Will the Broken Dozen and Donnel make it out of Ylisstol unnoticed? Will they escape to the safe-house in Ferox? Tune in next time to find out the answer!